


The Collage Killer

by Daydream_to_nightmare



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:21:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daydream_to_nightmare/pseuds/Daydream_to_nightmare
Summary: Set in 1950,  this Noir style mystery, Detectives Sam and Dean Winchester investigate a string of murders that are connected only by a coded message left at the crime scene. Will they find the killer?





	The Collage Killer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first time posting on here so apologies if I do it wrong.   
> This story was heavily inspired by the game LA. Noire and the book "The Maltese Falcon". I hope you enjoy!

Dean Winchester picked up the stout glass and brought it to his lips. The copper liquid inside becoming less and less as the detective drank. He stared out the window of the police station, his green eyes like marbles, glossy and unenthusiastic. He peeled his eyes away from the window to make eye contact with his partner on the force, who just so happened to be his little brother, Sam.   
“Another crime scene, another victim,” his brother’s voice was monotone as he too took another drink, “This guy is hard to catch.”   
The elder Winchester nodded and finished his drink, he poured himself another before speaking, “I’m getting real sick of this guy. He’s too quick, too hard to catch.”   
“But we are going to catch him.”   
“Damn right we are.”   
The younger of the two chuckled and placed his glass on the smooth surface of the mahogany desk behind him, “How do you suppose we do that?” He crossed his arms, “We always seem one step behind.”   
The elder Winchester put his glass on the table and sighed, “We keep investigating.” He was uncertain as to how to answer this question. It should have been easy, he should have had an answer, after all, he had been doing detective work for almost 20 years. This was a baffling case, 5 people murdered within 5 nights, all in different ways, with the only thing connecting them being a single letter of the alphabet.   
The first had been the letter a letter ‘A’ written in crimson ink. Dean thought it was ‘cute’ as it was a reference to The Scarlet Letter and in all truthfulness, he almost didn’t count it as a clue for that reason. His brother had insisted on putting it in the evidence bag anyway, so they did.   
The next had been t, and then another t, u, and s. The letters appeared to be from news clippings and magazine covers. What was odd was that these letters were always a foot away from the victim’s body, as if they had been an afterthought.   
“Where are we going today? 53rd and Maple?” Asked Sam.   
“That’s what the captain said.”   
Sam sighed as he opened the door of their office, “The captain said the vic was poisoned,” He started.   
“So?” The elder Winchester scoffed as he clambered down the stairs.   
“So,” the younger Winchester followed, “Her heart was also taken out.”   
Dean stopped in his tracks on the 3rd to last step on the staircase and looked at his brother, “Her heart was removed? What did the sick bastard want her heart for?” He took out a cigar and lit it, the smoke curling around his lips as he took it out of his mouth, “Not like it’s any good outside the body.”   
“That’s what makes it so strange. Why would you poison someone, only to rip their heart out later?”   
“Maybe she was poisoned by one and then had her heart removed by another?” Dean suggested.   
“Perhaps, or maybe it was all part of his elusive plan.”   
Dean rolled his eyes as he got into the driver’s seat of the 1947 Ford-standard issue-detective car he had so lovingly nicknamed ‘baby’ as Sam got into the passenger’s seat. Placing his hands on the cold leather of the steering wheel, he put the key in the ignition and sped off to the crime scene.   
Blood covered the sidewalk and the once crowded street, it covered the florist’s shop windows and stained the once white lilies that were nestled on the windowsill. The victim’s young body laid sprawled out on the sidewalk, her lavender dress splattered with now dark red blood. Most importantly, however, was the gaping hole in her chest where her heart had once been. The Winchester brothers arrived at the scene of the crime. The street had been closed off so nobody would disturb the massacre that had taken place here. Stepping over the rope, the brothers entered the bloodbath.   
“Jesus Christ it looks like a slaughterhouse in here,” Dean remarked, kneeling down to look at the body.   
“Real Classy Dean,” The younger Winchester brother said as he searched for evidence. About a foot away from the body, hidden amongst the store-front lilies, was the letter ‘B’ written in green, magazine ink. “Dean, another letter,” He said, pointing to the letter in the flowerbed. Dean put on a pair of gloves and fished the letter out of the box. He placed it into a plastic bag and put it in his pocket.   
“The coroner was right, her heart was obviously ripped out,” Where it was now was a mystery of its own, “No trace of a weapon anywhere. The killer is good.” Dean remarked as he looked at his brother. “Dean, check the alleyway, there could be some evidence there.”   
Taking his brother’s advice, he slowly walked into the alleyway. The sun had just began to set, casting a golden glow onto the dark corridor. As he walked, He saw what looked like the tie of a long, brown coat fly around the corner. Was this their guy? Dean took off after them, his feet hitting the ground with trepidation. Sweat poured off him as he chased the trenchcoat down the street and for 3 blocks. Just as Dean’s legs were about to give, he cornered the trenchcoat. 

“Stop right there,” He positioned his gun, aiming it at the man’s head, “Turn around.”

“Please don’t shoot me, I’m just a bum,” The trenchcoat man said as he held his hands in the air. Upon further inspection, he noticed that the man’s coat was indeed worn and tattered, proving that he was in fact a bum.   
Dean lowered his revolver and kept it at his side, “My apologies sir, didn’t mean to startle you. What were you doing in the alleyway?”   
The man’s blue eyes were filled with fear, “I live here officer!”   
Detective Winchester sighed and put his gun in it’s hostler, “My apologies, have you by any chance saw anyone suspicious pass through here,” Dean questioned.   
“No,” The man shook his head violently.   
“Alright, my apologies, have a good night sir, stay out of trouble.”   
As Dean turned around, he heard a whoosh, and lo and behold, the man was gone.   
That was strange   
Dean lit up a cigar and rejoined his partner.   
“Man’s innocent. Just a bum. Looked harmless, if we see him again however, we take him in for questioning,” Dean defended.   
“I wasn’t going to fight you on it, you alright?” Sam asked concerned.   
“Yeah, just need a drink, that’s all. Think the bar on Main is still open?”   
“Think so, I’ll drive.”   
They got into the car and drove to find the liquid courage they needed to solve the case.


End file.
